


Hell from Above, Hell from Below, part 4/4

by dramady, jeck



Series: Hell from Above, Hell from Below [4]
Category: Boondock Saints (Movies), Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-21
Updated: 2011-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-19 16:17:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramady/pseuds/dramady, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeck/pseuds/jeck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After all they'd seen, Connor and Murphy revel in what they know to be true and good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell from Above, Hell from Below, part 4/4

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: Part [1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/199003) and part [2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/199573) and part [3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/199915).
> 
> Disclaimer: Not ours; please don't sue.

When they woke up the next morning, Connor wasn't even hung over. He was on his belly, arm thrown over Murphy's waist. He laid there for a long moment, feeling his brother come awake. "They're gone by now, I reckon," he gruffed out.

Murphy's eyes were slow to blink open but already he was shifting, pushing off Connor just so he could look at his face. He nodded his head while wiping at his eyes with his fingers. "Back to gay California." He smirked then lifted his head to confirm that yes, the bed next to them was already made and empty. "Huh. Least they could do was stay for a drink, eh?"

"Aye." Connor rolled to sit, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. At least they had time now to go to church. "... do you believe it all?," he asked, resting his elbows on his knees. All that John and Derek had told them, about that Skynet taking over, cyborgs and nuclear weapons.

Sitting up, Murphy kept his head down but his eyes flicked to look intently at Connor. "Would you think I'm mad if I tell ya I believe them?" How could he not believe cyborgs and shit when he saw one with his own two eyes. "They're evil bastards."

An abrupt shake of Connor's head was Murphy's answer; he didn't think his brother was mad. That had been the craziest fucking thing he'd ever seen. But what did that mean? In some ten years, maybe even less, the whole fucking world would end and that lad John would be taking over, leading whatever humans were left alive. _Be ready_ , Derek had told them. But how?

This was about the time, usually after they'd done what needed to be done, when they knew about how their job wasn't a job -- it was really a calling. "I think it was God who had a hand in this. Fuckin' fate." They wouldn't have met Derek and John otherwise and now they knew they had a bigger job out there. "We're probably going to need more guns."

Connor gave his brother a very serious nod before adding, "And rope." Then he grinned, launching himself at his brother. "I'll show you fucking fate!," he said, pinning Murphy to the mattress, hand on the back of his neck.

"Ow, you _fucker_!" They scuffled like they always did but this was a little different than the petty push-and-shove that they did whenever either disagreed or when they were goofing around. This was teasing - of a different kind.

Murph didn't mean to whimper at the feel of Connor's solid body pushing him down and he felt Connor's touch gentle, just a shade, at the sound.

Leaning down, mouth next to his ear, Connor whispered, "til the end, brother." A vow and a promise. Whenever the end of days might be, he would be by Murphy's side.

Hand still bracketing his brother's neck, Connor pressed hot, open kisses right under his ear. It turned that whimper into a moan.

"To-gether," Murphy gasped, his back arching toward Connor's body. He rolled his neck to the side, freeing the other, offering it up to his brother while his eyes struggled to keep open. "Connor … fuck …" He sucked in a breath and then Murphy was turning his face toward his brother. "Git the fuck off me and do that the right way, eh?"

"Pushy bastard," Connor whispered, even as he was moving, lifting a leg to urge Murphy onto his back, then straddling him again, hip to hip, feeling an erection that matched his own, separated by two layers of thin cotton. He caught Murpy's wrists again, sliding his hands up to lace their fingers together. A good, long look at a face he knew better than his own and he leaned in, then, closing the distance, tasting stale cigarettes, whiskey and, of course, Murphy.

"Fuck. Yeah. Like that." Murphy said between stolen, gasped breaths. He lifted his knee up, thigh sliding between Connor's legs and he pushed a little down to feel the hardness between Connor's legs. This was nowhere in any movie he and Connor had seen. _This_ , they made up as they went along until they both move seamlessly together, knowing they were created for each other, fitting perfectly.

There wasn't a rule of who did what. It was what felt right at the time. This time, it was Connor who stuck his fingers in Murphy's mouth to get them wet and, still straddling his hips, reached back to start working himself open. "Patience," he breathlessly scolded. "Not gonna have you breakin' me."

"Break you?" Murphy's eyes were darkened, fixed on those fingers moving slowly in and out of Connor. "I'm not going to let that happen, brother." He licked his lips and sucked a couple of his own fingers before guiding them where Connor's were. Murphy was going to help by adding a second inside him.

The sound Connor made when he had both their fingers inside him was higher and tighter, his eyes locked on Murphy's. Even then, their rhythm matched, Connor's hips rocking in time with their shared touch. Then, he lifted up and rolled to his back, giving his brother a cock-eyed grin; come on, then.

Aye! What a glorious sound. One side of Murphy's lips quirked and he looked positively smug. But only Connor would know it meant he was absolutely pleased. They both knew that wasn't enough prep but then that was how they learned about what they both liked; by trying things out.

Murphy crawled like a slinking cat over his brother, grinning then speaking in a husky brogue, "you're a big ol' slut."

And then they kissed.

Of course, Murph got a bite. Connor wasn't a slut! One couldn't be a slut if they only did it with one person. That was his definition anyway. Connor dug his fingers into Murphy's ass a urged him on. 'Come on, already,' he urged. He wasn't a slut, he just knew what he wanted.

By the time he pulled away enough to grab his erection and press himself right between his brother's legs, Murphy was grinning like a cat that got the cream. He pushed the head of his cock up against Connor's entrance. "I'm going to break you ... In the best way ..."

"Christ," Connor gasped, his head falling back, back arching. "Fuckin- " But then words escaped him and he bore down, feeling the push and burn that was so fucking good. He dug a heel into the back of Murphy's leg to urge him deeper.

"Ah, fuck me, you're tight," Murph growled, pushing all the way into Connor, the slide rough and burning hot around his cock. Once Murphy was flushed in his brother's body, he paused to look down over him, eyes in narrow slits, a slight smile on his quivering lips, like he could barely contain the pleasure. "I'm going to fuck you real good, Connor," he gasped, "hold on to me." Murphy pulled back slowly until it was only the crown of his cock in Connor, then he moved his hips, thrusting deep.

And Murphy called Connor a fag. Christ.

But with the first full push of his brother's hips, Connor groaned low and loud. That didn't make him a slut; it made his brother a whore. Of course, no words for how Connor clenched around Murphy as he pulled back, then urged him in deeper still.

The rhythm that Murphy set was slow and undulating, rocking his hips as he pushed to the hilt, the pleasure and heat rising. If they pressed together even more, they'd be fully connected. Murphy shuddered at the pleasure that wrapped around his cock and spread throughout his body. It felt so fucking _good_ that no way could something like this not be right. Connor was fucking _hot_ and it warmed him completely that Murphy could feel the sweat beading on his brow and his back, tickling when ripples slid down his spine. "Fuck!"

"Yes, you are." Even on this moment, Connor couldn't resist being a smartass. But the way he dug his fingers into Murphy's ass belied his tone. He was nowhere near coming but don't let it be said that he was a selfish lover. The working open was delicious making goosebumps tingle over his skin.

"Shut - the fuck - up!" Murphy growled, thrusting harder and deeper just because he could. He pushed up to his knees, both hands behind Connor's thighs and he parted them higher and wider while his hips continued to pump inside his brother. "Shit, Connor. Shit, shit, shit!" God in heaven bless them because this felt too fucking good. Murphy then wrapped a hand around Connor's dick and jerked him rough and needy. "Fuck!"

Murphy was fucking gorgeous like this, his face all flushed and needy. It made Connor feel all kinds of things they didn't talk about. With that hand, though, Connor groaned, head back, groaning out his brother's name.

Murph loved his brother like nothing else and it was none more evident than when they were like this ... or close to death. And by their God, this was like being close to dying and going to heaven. Fuck, it felt amazing! He pumped his hips faster, thrust in deeper while jerking his brother off and trying to keep his eyes open to watch the pleasure take over Connor's face. "Come with me, brother ..." it was always like a communion, a rite of passage that they had to share -- that they _need_ to experience _together_.

 _In Nomine Patri …_

It was almost sacrilegious, but Connor couldn't think clearly enough to think that. For something like this was right and good and that was it and all, hallelujah and amen. "You're gonna - Murph - !" He went from being far from coming to being nearly right there, his breathing fast and shallow, his face and chest flushed as he stared intently up at his brother.

This was when things got quiet. Not silent quiet but internal quiet. All Murphy could do was stare into his brother's eyes, keep those hips and his hand moving, almost feeling as if they _were_ one. It was magical when they both moved with a slow but burning hunger for each other that felt almost ethereal -- like time slowed down and each breath, each heartbeat ticked slowly by and there was nothing else that mattered but the two of them.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Thrust. Pant. Grab. Squeeze. Love. Kiss. Like the second hand on a clock that moved in slow motion then exploded like stars.

But fuck if Connor would say that aloud. He clenched his teeth together as he came and arched his back off the bed and that was all he could feel: heat and pleasure and it was good. Really fucking good.

There was sweat and jizz between them and panted breathing. "Your breath could kill a horse," Connor groused, grinning as he caught Murphy's wrist before he could backhand him. Then he laced their fingers together again, thinking silly, gay words like 'love' and 'eternal.'

"Fuck you!" Murphy shoved his softening dick deeper inside Connor while trying to get his arm back with a tug. "You come like a girl …" And then he made high whimpering sounds while making faces at his brother. He pulled out and and then groaned as he rolled beside Connor, smacking him accidentally on purpose as he wrapped an arm around his side. "Fucker."

And just like that they were back to how they usually were -- like bickering little children their mother loved to make fun of.

"I think you're the fucker," Connor pointed out, ever so helpful. He grinned as he reached for the cigarette pack, tamping two out and lighting them both, letting Murphy take one. "Think they're all right?" he asked, referring of course, to John and Derek.

Murph thought about that for a minute and then he covered his mouth with his clean hand (his other was still covered thickly with Connor's jizz), laughing quietly. "I think they're alright. Bet they wish they had time to do what we just did." He cut a meaningful look at his brother. No need to point it out by saying it out loud; they both knew, somehow.

"John's a smart kid. He'll be alright," Murph added, soberly. "He's got some Irish in 'im after all."

Maybe he did. But that wasn't what John was thinking about that night. They'd checked into a crappy motel off I-80 in Iowa and the room still smelled of sex. It made him blush, but he tried to hide it, face up to to the water in the shower.

But the curtain was pulled aside and he turned. He and Derek were mostly the same height. He looked down, before looking up, and even as he could feel his face heat, he was smirking, just a little as he met his uncle's eyes. _Miss me?_ he wanted to say, but instead, he stepped close and skated his hands up Derek's waist, then he leaned in and kissed him.

Derek held John to him gently, kissing him back with a hunger but no desperation. Things were going to be all right. Somehow, in this moment he knew, they were going to be all right.


End file.
